


guys my age

by starboykeith



Series: guys my age [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Daddy Kink, First Meetings, First Time, Hopeful Ending, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, One Night Stands, Size Kink, Virgin Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: He's done the whole teenager thing – the sloppy makeouts, messy handjobs in the back of a car – but fumbling fingers and someone who comes ten seconds after Keith gets his hands on them isn't what he wants.Guys his age don't know how to treat him, so Keith finds Shiro in a bar.





	guys my age

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Парни моего возраста](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499648) by [commander_lils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commander_lils/pseuds/commander_lils)



> keith isn't drunk - this is NOT drunk sex - but he does have one drink and is under the american drinking age, so i just wanted to mention that
> 
> hello boyos..........i am indeed still alive and i hope you're all having good holidays!!
> 
> can i just add that i exaggerated the age difference for Reasons...these ages are absolutely not what i think are canon
> 
> title from guys my age by hey violet, which was the inspo for this fic so i recommend giving it a listen

He's done the whole teenager thing – the sloppy makeouts, messy handjobs in the back of a car – but fumbling fingers and someone who comes ten seconds after Keith gets his hands on them isn't what he wants. 

He wants someone _experienced_ , someone who knows what they're doing, someone who can take Keith apart and put him back together and do it with a smirk. 

He wants – 

“Hi there,” comes a deep voice, and when Keith turns, he feels his lips curl into a slow, dark smile. 

He wants _that_. 

The man smiling at him isn't boyishly cute like everyone Keith's age – he's _handsome_ , with a carved jawline and molten grey eyes, and Keith's tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. 

“I'm Shiro,” says the man, and _Shiro's_ gaze fixes on Keith's mouth with a kind of directness Keith's never experienced before. He extends his hand, and Keith gets a little caught up staring at it, because it's _metal_ , mostly, but also _big_ and Keith can imagine it wrapped around his – 

Shiro laughs a little self-consciously, and Keith quickly reaches to shake his hand to reassure that he wasn't judging. 

“I'm Keith,” he replies, and then, hoping he's not overstepping, “Your arm is beautiful.”

“Beautiful piece of science, maybe,” Shiro says easily, but there's something tight in his voice telling Keith not to push. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Keith smiles slow and lazy, and Shiro slides onto the chair next to him and signals the bartender. 

“Whatever you're drinking,” Keith says when Shiro raises an eyebrow. It's whisky, and it burns on the way down, but Shiro stares at Keith's lips again when he takes a deep breath, and that's nice, Keith thinks smugly. 

Shiro gives him an appraising look. “You're 21?”

Keith pulls his fake ID out of his pocket and shows it somewhat triumphantly, but Shiro isn't fooled for a second.

“I'm sure that's real,” he says, and Keith holds his breath, but he just smiles. “How old _are_ you?”

Keith swallows, and he thinks Shiro's eyes narrow. “Twenty,” he lies.

“You in college?”

 _In August_ , Keith thinks apologetically, and he nods. “Are you?” he asks, just to be an asshole, and Shiro laughs. 

“No,” he says emphatically. He's late twenties, Keith reckons, sizing him up with an unmistakeable look he hopes will get them out of this bar; maybe early thirties if Keith's lucky. 

Either way, he's exactly what Keith's been looking for. Exactly who he wants for his first. 

“Good,” Keith says, smiling, and Shiro's lips quirk in amusement. 

They talk, for a little while, relocating to a dimly lit table that makes Shiro's eyes glow silver; Keith fabricates some specifics of his college course, and Shiro tells him about his work, something to do with science and space that Keith would find very interesting if his eyes weren't fixed on the open collar of Shiro's shirt, teasing skin Keith wants to get his mouth on. 

“You must be very important,” Keith says, leaning over the table, batting his eyelashes just a little, and Shiro's mouth curves into a dangerous smirk. “Working so hard. You should relax.”

He slides his hand forward until it's beside Shiro's, and a thrill goes through him when Shiro covers his hand with his own. 

Shiro has lovely hands, large and the one holding Keith's is warm, but Keith sneaks a glance at the prosthetic and wonders how it would feel; if it would be cold, make goosebumps rise on his skin. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Shiro asks, and it was everything Keith wanted and everything he was expecting, but as Shiro rubs his thumb over Keith's palm a shiver goes up his spine. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. 

They get a taxi, and Shiro's hand is on Keith's thigh, fiddling with the rips in his jeans, and Keith smiles to himself as Shiro kisses him, chaste at first and then deep and wet as Keith curls a hand into his shirt. 

The driver pointedly turns the radio volume up and Keith still has it in him to blush, embarrassed but thrilled too, making out in the back of a cab with a handsome stranger, going home with said handsome stranger, about to – 

Keith makes a noise of complaint when Shiro's mouth leaves his, when Shiro's big hand leaves his thigh, but they're here and Shiro's paying the driver and Keith's heart is in his throat. 

It's a posh building – a towering apartment block glittering with indulgence and extravagance, and Keith feels out of place immediately. Despite this, Shiro's hand slips, chaste, to the small of his back, beckoning him forward to the elevator. Like a prize, Keith thinks. Like something he's hunted down and brought home to covet as a trophy. 

Shiro kisses him again, pressing Keith's back against the mirrored wall and Keith's hand glides under his shirt, untucking and unravelling that perfect image like he's been dying to all evening. He opens his eyes, watches Shiro's tongue slide into his mouth, watches Shiro tilt his chin up to get at Keith's neck, pressing long sucking kisses there and Keith wants marks, wants hickeys like the teenager he is, wants a _reminder_. 

They reach Shiro's floor soon enough, and Shiro moves off him and pretends to be presentable, straightening his collar and throwing Keith a smirk when he raises a questioning eyebrow. 

An ornate mirror runs along the corridor and Keith almost startles when the lift opens and he comes face to face with his own reflection, flushed cheeks and bright eyes betraying how easy he is, how desperate he is for it already. 

He walks ahead of Shiro, adding a little extra sway into his hips, but Shiro catches him up soon enough, a hand sliding from Keith's back down to cup his ass. He can hear the jingle of Shiro's keys and then they come to a stop in front of one of the two doors in the corridor. Keith holds his breath. 

It’s not much longer before Keith’s walking into the centre of the lounge area, looking around in awe; it's sleek, modern, and he wonders if there's a single thing in this room that he could afford. He shrugs his blazer off and hangs it over a chair, revealing the simple white t-shirt Lance assured him made his arms look amazing.

When he turns, Shiro is leaning against the closed front door, a wry smile on his lips. 

“Come here, sweet thing,” he says, and Keith isn't one for blushing, but the endearment turns his cheeks bright red, warmth rushing through him. 

Keith goes obediently, and though Shiro's hands go to his hips when he kisses him he quickly moves to cup Keith's ass, gripping hard enough to make Keith arch his back and stifle an embarrassed moan. 

“All I've wanted to do,” Shiro says, walking Keith backwards, giving him short snatches of kisses that aren't enough, “all evening, is get you out of those jeans.”

Keith inhales sharply, and he bites at Shiro’s lip in retaliation next time he's close enough. “Good luck,” he says, completely genuinely, and Shiro laughs, dark and promising. 

He gasps as his back hits the side, and then Shiro's hands go to his thighs and _lift_ , lifting Keith up onto the counter and putting Keith's legs around his waist, rolling their hips together. 

“You gonna fuck me on the counter?” Keith breathes, and he isn't opposed to it, not at all, and it's true this isn't your regular first time, but he had at least imagined a bed. 

“No, baby,” Shiro murmurs, and he kisses Keith long and wet before pulling back again and whispering, “Maybe later,” and Keith's heart thumps in his chest. 

Shiro's hands go to the hem of Keith's shirt, and Keith's ready to yank it off and throw it to the floor but Shiro just _touches_ him, pushing Keith's shirt up and running his hands over Keith's stomach, which contracts with the quick breath Keith sucks in at the touch. 

He cries out, raw and unrestrained, when Shiro shoves his shirt to his armpits and gets his mouth on Keith's nipple. 

This is new, too; Keith’s never actually had his nipples played with, but within seconds he knows instinctively that Shiro could make him come from this alone.

“Oh God,” he finally chokes out, a hand going to Shiro's hair to keep him there, praying he won't stop, “oh God, oh fuck, Shiro – “

Shiro's hardly even _doing_ anything, alternating tracing shapes with his tongue and sucking and _biting_ until Keith's out of his mind, and he smirks when he pulls back, Keith moaning at the loss. 

“You looked like you'd have sensitive nipples,” Shiro says, and Keith wonders if he ought to feel offended but he doesn't care when Shiro lowers his head again, moves his mouth to the other one and Keith squeezes his legs so hard around Shiro's waist he worries they'll bruise. 

Keith feels stupid but he can't stop _whimpering_ , making soft little sounds in the shape of Shiro's name. Shiro doesn't neglect him; clever fingers go back to Keith's other nipple, pink and sore, and rub and pinch the skin there, and between the heat of Shiro's mouth and the hint of his teeth and the torture of his fingers Keith is sure he'll die before they make it to the bedroom. 

It's embarrassing how easy he is, and Keith squirms a few moments more, unwilling to give up the sweet torture of Shiro's mouth and fingers, but it's enough to think of how he wants that mouth and those fingers elsewhere on his body, and Keith means to gasp Shiro's name, tell him to stop, ask to move to the bed in his best seductive voice. 

What spills from him, though, is a breathless, “Daddy, stop.”

Shiro stops. Shiro _freezes_ , his hand splaying over Keith's chest. 

Keith wants to _die_. 

He means to start babbling apologies, to edge his way towards the door because _oh God not everyone's into that and I should have asked and holy shit this is the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me_ but Shiro straightens up and forces eye contact before Keith can open his mouth. 

And Shiro's eyes are _dark_ , Keith realises, dark and heated and he's biting his lip and Keith's heart jumps into his throat. 

“What was that?” Shiro says roughly, and he's hard, so hard against Keith and Keith can't resist grinding down against him, smirking as Shiro hisses out a breath. 

“Do you like that?” Keith asks in a whisper, confidence growing. He must be the luckiest man in the world. “Daddy?”

“Fuck, baby,” Shiro says, almost a growl, and Keith's caught between moaning and laughing when Shiro's lips find his neck, sucking so hard Keith imagines the bloom of a red-purple mark and writhes, arms and legs tight around Shiro's back. 

“Please,” he begs mindlessly, grinding down again and licking his lips at the thought of taking Shiro inside him, “please – “

“I got you,” Shiro murmurs, rough and somehow amused, too, and he flexes his fingers on Keith's ass and lifts him again, drawing a shocked moan from Keith as their hips roll together.

Shiro kicks his bedroom door shut behind them and just as quickly slams Keith up against his wardrobe, making it rattle and Keith trembles as Shiro holds him there without breaking a sweat. Keith bets Shiro could fuck him against the wall, has the strength to hold Keith there and fuck him without Keith's feet touching the ground, but _another time_ , Keith thinks mournfully as Shiro sets him down. 

He slots a thigh between Keith's legs, and Keith helplessly grinds down. Shiro's legs are muscled and thick like the rest of him, so hard Keith suddenly imagines straddling and riding Shiro's thigh until he gets himself off. He moans pitifully when Shiro steps back and gets his hands on the hem of Keith's shirt. 

It's on the floor moments later. 

“Oh, baby, look at you,” Shiro breathes, and Keith gasps to feel those big hands on his waist – almost like they could fit all the way round, maybe if Shiro squeezed a little and God, Keith wishes he would – 

“You too,” he blurts out instead, with vague ideas of fumbling out of his skinny jeans while Shiro gets undressed, but as Shiro starts unbuttoning his shirt Keith can't look away. 

“Like what you see?” Shiro says playfully, and Keith shuts his mouth. 

“Shut up,” he says, and Shiro grins. 

Keith's fingers go to his fly but his eyes are still on Shiro, darting from arms to pecs to abs, and _fucking hell_ , he's only gone and scored an Adonis for his first time. 

“You gonna take those off or do I have to do it for you?”

Keith goes red under the weight of Shiro's gaze, eyes dipping to take in the shape of Shiro's cock against his boxers, huge and hard with a wet spot at the tip, and Keith curses himself as he wriggles out of his jeans, embarrassed with the knowledge Shiro is watching him. 

“Naughty boy,” Shiro comments when Keith finally tosses them to the floor, and Keith grins with more confidence than he's feeling. 

Going commando was definitely the right choice, he thinks, watching Shiro's eyes slide over him. 

“Like what you see?” Keith mimics. 

“Very much,” Shiro says, eyes and voice dark. He goes to return the favour, hooking his thumbs into his waistband, but Keith moves quickly over to him and drops to his knees, and it stops Shiro in his tracks. 

“You got plans?” he asks lazily, and Keith pushes his hands away and replaces them with his own, slowly drawing Shiro's boxers down his thighs and licking his lips both from nerves and from – _fuck_. 

He could see Shiro was big, but this close makes his mouth water, tracing the vein on the underside with his eyes and making plans to trace it with his tongue; watching a bead of pre-come slick at the tip and begin to roll over the head. 

It doesn't get far before Keith's pressing the flat of his tongue to it and sighing, just a little, playing it up for Shiro's benefit. 

This is something he can do, Keith thinks. Something he's good at. Something to make Shiro feel good, so he's not just a useless virgin who lies back and takes it. 

He takes the head in his mouth next, fastening his lips tight and hollowing his cheeks because he knows he looks good like this, on his knees with a dick in his mouth and his lips pursed all pretty. 

“Fuck,” Shiro says under his breath, and a hand slides into Keith's hair but doesn't tug, doesn't pull, and Keith almost wishes he would but he's grateful, because Shiro's too big to fuck his mouth without easing him into it. 

He starts easing down, breathing through his nose and opening his mouth wide to take it, gasping when Shiro's cock nudges the back of his throat. Shiro probably gets this a lot, because he murmurs, “It's okay, baby, take as much as you can,” and rubs the nape of Keith's neck in a way that's oddly soothing. 

Keith curls his hand around what he can't fit in his mouth – and there's a _lot_ , and Keith would be embarrassed if he wasn't dizzy with the pleasure of having a cock heavy on his tongue, hands in his hair, heartbeat thudding in his ears. 

He starts moving, and the first bob of his head tears a real moan out of Shiro. Keith knows this game, knows just how to play it, and he moans around Shiro's cock in a way that's hardly exaggerated, but brings a thrill of pleasure when Shiro responds regardless. 

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro breathes, and Keith opens his eyes to see Shiro staring at him in awe, biting his bottom lip. Keith moves to grip Shiro's thighs, grabbing handfuls of his ass and squeezing and Shiro's resulting groan is gorgeous, wrenched out of him like he didn't expect it. 

Keith pulls back, tongues the underside vein and receives a whimper for his efforts, sucking noisily on the head until everything's slick and dripping and there's spit running down his chin. He likes it sloppy, loves making a mess of himself and the other person and Shiro loves it too, fingers clenching in Keith's hair and Keith hums around him, bobbing his head and taking Shiro deep again. 

He can tell when Shiro starts getting close, his grip tightening and breaths stuttering and he tries to speak, Keith's name a broken moan as he comes. Keith swallows without thinking, moaning at the taste and heat and sucking and licking until it's spilling down his chin, until Shiro pushes him away, sensitive. 

There's no sound but the both of them panting for a moment, but then Shiro's fingers are sliding round to cup Keith's jaw, and he looks up obediently, smugly taking in the flush on Shiro's face and his laboured breathing. For the first time Keith realises how hard he is, heavy between his legs and desperate for Shiro to touch him, but he'd been so distracted by getting Shiro off that he'd hardly noticed. 

“Come here, baby,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith stands on trembling legs, shocked when Shiro immediately leans down to kiss him hard, licking the taste of himself out of Keith's mouth. 

There's a power in kneeling at someone's feet and taking them apart, but Keith happily melts against Shiro, lets him walk them backwards to the bed. He lets Shiro push him down, but when Shiro climbs over him Keith flips them over, the element of surprise allowing him to do so despite Shiro being stronger – _so much stronger_ , Keith thinks dizzily. 

Shiro laughs and lets him, lets Keith pin his wrists above his head and lean down to kiss him, biting at Shiro's bottom lip and grinning when he moans. 

He kisses Shiro a while longer, reluctant to move on because there's a part of him that's too nervous to make the next move, too nervous to ask for what he wants, to ask for what he came out tonight to do. 

Keith’s relieved when Shiro flexes, breaking the grip he was hardly restrained by in the first place, and surges up to kiss him hard, toppling Keith’s balance and flipping them over again. There’s a moment where he isn’t sure what Shiro’s doing, and then suddenly Shiro’s got a bottle of lube in his hand and Keith’s heart is in his throat.

“Yeah?” Shiro says, and Keith realises he’s being watched, quickly swallowing and fixing his face into what he hopes is eager anticipation.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and Shiro’s uncertainty vanishes – _thank God_ , Keith thinks guiltily, cursing himself for being visibly unsure.

And this – this isn’t new to Keith, the unwelcome intrusion of the first finger, the slight uncomfortable feeling as he fights his tense body to relax, but it’s different when it’s someone else’s fingers, another palm spreading his thighs, another body atop his own.

He hums and pushes down, impatient as he finally relaxes and moans as Shiro slides his finger inside, rubbing slow circles and his other hand wandering up to tug at Keith’s nipples, and it becomes too much _suddenly_ , not gradually, and Keith finds himself whimpering as Shiro whispers inaudibly to him. There’s fingers on his thigh, pushing it up and out, and Keith spreads his legs out of reflex, submissive and wanting more, more, _more_ , even though Shiro won’t give him a second finger and all Keith can do is squirm down and listen to every second breath come out as a moan.

Shiro's hands are everywhere, rubbing at Keith's nipples and tugging at his cock and pressing at his hole and Keith is so overstimulated he feels like crying, eyes screwed tight shut and hardly capable of keeping his legs in the air, trembling all over as Shiro bites at his neck, one more sensation in a body far too full of them. 

“S-Shiro,” Keith gasps, and Shiro hums in acknowledgement but doesn't stop, and Keith starts panting and tipping closer to the edge, “ _Daddy_ , I'm going to – I'm gonna – “

“Go on, baby,” Shiro murmurs, and his voice is quiet against the thud of Keith's heartbeat in his ears, “Come for me.”

Keith cries out when he comes, overstimulated and overwhelmed and gasping for breath, and Shiro's smile is dark and smug as he traces a finger through the come on Keith's stomach. 

“Good boy,” he says, and Keith exhales shakily. 

He lets himself lie there and pant for a minute or two, eyes closed against Shiro’s amused expression as his fingers walk Keith’s thigh, and then he takes one more deep breath and summons a smirk.

“Did I tire you out, daddy?”

Shiro laughs, warm and dark. Keith shivers. “Don’t push it,” Shiro says eventually, and Keith takes him in hand, giving slow strokes until Shiro twitches and shudders against him.

“You got condoms?” Keith asks after a moment, heart stuttering at the words but managing a level tone, and Shiro hums.

“You want to?”

Keith swallows and nods, rubbing his thumb over the head of Shiro’s cock and holding his breath at Shiro’s low moan.

“Turn over,” Shiro says next, and Keith almost feels guilty for being relieved he won’t have Shiro’s eyes on him as he stretches him open. 

Shiro’s fingers are bigger than Keith’s, so much bigger, and Keith’s embarrassed to find himself whining for more by the second finger, rocking into every movement. He cries out when Shiro finds his prostate, pressing insistently against it in a way Keith can never manage himself, and before long he’s frustrated, wishing Shiro would _get on with it already_ , because he swears he’s never been more ready in his life and Shiro’s teasing a _fourth_ finger against him.

None of his other flings took their time like this, working him up, teasing, making him impatient and fuck, he almost wants to _beg_ – 

“Say please,” comes Shiro's voice behind him, and Keith moans, hands curling into fists in the sheets. 

He can't, he thinks, can't lie so exposed like this and beg for it, can't lower himself to beg for cock like a cheap whore, but the words spill from his mouth anyway. “Please, daddy,” he breathes, hot all over with humiliation but the _thrill_ of it, too, “I want it, I want you to fuck me.” 

It's a shock when Shiro flips him over. Keith gasps, mostly from the sudden intensity of Shiro’s gaze, and covers his face with his hands, feeling abruptly vulnerable.

“Let me see you, baby,” Shiro says, and Keith's cheeks are burning but he obeys, legs spreading under Shiro's hands as Shiro rubs his thighs. He looks down to check Shiro's wearing the condom, relieved to see he is. Everything's gone so well, Keith thinks hazily, so well he doesn't notice the sudden narrowing of Shiro's eyes as they fix on his lax face. 

He doesn't notice still as Shiro settles between his legs, pressing them almost chest to chest and everything's so hot, so hot Keith panics about his hands being sweaty when he places one on Shiro's back, but the feeling of muscle shifting distracts him from his embarrassment. 

But then – 

“You're not twenty, are you,” Shiro says, moving his hands either side of Keith's head and looking at him with a resigned kind of look. 

“No,” Keith says after a lengthy inner monologue of _shit shit shit_ , and Shiro stares at him until he admits, “Eighteen.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shiro swears. “What are you doing, Keith – “

“I'm doing,” Keith says, reaching between them to touch Shiro, and yeah, Shiro can pretend he's scandalised by the age difference, but he's still hard as hell, “what I _want_. And I want you.”

“Eighteen,” Shiro mutters in disbelief, but his gaze sharpens until Keith feels like he's under a microscope, and he thinks Shiro – _likes_ it. Likes it a lot. 

But he still looks hesitant, and Keith kicks his heels idly at Shiro's back. “Come on, daddy,” he says, with the smirk Lance calls _someone's about to get eaten alive_ , and Shiro inhales sharply. “Fuck me.”

He's been waiting and aching for _so_ long, but the sudden bluntness of Shiro's cock against his hole has him tensing, has Shiro touching his cheek and murmuring, “Relax,” like Keith needs to be babied through it. 

Shiro presses inside _slowly_ , so slowly Keith thinks he might die, but it hurts too, makes tears spring to his eyes and as Shiro wipes them away Keith wonders suddenly if he knows, if he knows this is Keith's first – 

“You want to stop?” Shiro asks, and God, Keith doesn't want Shiro to be _concerned_ , he wants him to be so turned on he can't think. 

“No, please,” Keith manages, “it's good, I can take it, I can take it – “

“Good,” Shiro says softly, and as he starts moving again Keith bites his lip hard, wishing he'd insisted on being on top so he could control this, because if Shiro suspects he's taking Keith's first right now Keith worries he might stop, and that's the last thing he wants. 

He can hardly breathe when Shiro bottoms out inside him – it's good, it's so good but Shiro is huge and splitting him open and Keith doesn't think he could handle it if he moved, but equally he feels like if Shiro moves he'll _come_. 

“Please don't move,” he chokes out, and Shiro nods and brushes the hair from Keith's forehead. 

“I've got you,” he says quietly, and it's soothing in an odd way, on his back with his legs open and Shiro's cock splitting him in two but knowing Shiro's here, that Shiro's going to take care of him. 

The thought makes his cock twitch with pre-come, and Shiro smirks as he swipes his finger through the growing puddle on Keith's belly, sucking it into his mouth with a filthy noise and smiling at Keith's sharp intake of breath. 

“Maybe I'll taste you properly, later,” Shiro says, and Keith doesn't know _where_ he's talking about but he's hot for it either way. 

The thought gives him pause, though – after this, Keith thinks sadly, he has to get out of here. Shiro already knows he’s eighteen. Keith’s just waiting for Shiro to also reveal he knows this was Keith’s first, and then he’ll be done for, even if he has been overstimulated and overwhelmed beyond his wildest dreams.

Shiro shifts, stretched full-length above Keith with the metal hand above his head, and with the other he takes Keith's hand, interlocking their fingers. It's almost sweet, and Keith wonders if Shiro does this with everyone he takes home or if maybe Keith's _special_. 

It's a pathetic thought, but honestly, Keith thinks, he's gonna be stuck on Shiro for a long time. And not just because of the whole virginity thing. 

“Better?” Shiro asks, and Keith gazes up at him and feels his heart stutter in his chest. 

 _Stupid_. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, confident enough to try clenching around Shiro and Shiro _moans_ , eyes falling shut and Keith feels abruptly smug that he can produce that reaction in the man who's taken him to pieces. 

“Fuck, Keith,” Shiro says, and he shifts, just a little, eyes trained on Keith's face, but it doesn't hurt this time and Keith hums, squeezing his legs around Shiro's waist. Shiro pulls out further and further and the drag of his cock is like nothing Keith's ever felt, and then he thrusts back _in_. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keith gasps, “God, Shiro – “

“Shh,” Shiro says, and when he presses a finger to Keith's lips Keith _moans_. “The mouth on you,” he says, and Keith smirks when Shiro takes his finger away, though it wavers a little when Shiro links their hands again. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asks, and Shiro's grip tightens. “Daddy?”

Keith can't bring himself to regret letting Shiro put him on his back when Shiro starts fucking him _properly_ , when he pulls out and thrusts back in so hard Keith's toes curl, so full of Shiro's cock he can feel it in his _throat_. 

“Yeah?” Shiro asks, and fuck, his voice is perfectly steady and Keith already feels _wrecked_. 

“Yeah, yes,” Keith blurts out, “ _fuck_ , yes – “

He'd been trying not to grab, trying not to clutch at Shiro like he was desperate, but now he can't help it, can't help his nails raking down Shiro's back as Shiro nudges his prostate and Keith has to bite back his wild cry. 

And oh God, it's rough, desperate, _hard_ , and Keith arches his back, chin tipped up and head pressed into the pillow because he can't take it, can't lie still when Shiro snaps his hips like _that_ and Keith wails when Shiro finds his prostate, fucking insistently against it until there's tears spilling from Keith's eyes, too much, too good. 

“Fuck, you look good under me, baby,” Shiro says roughly, finally a little breathless – a _little_ , and Keith moans with his eyes closed and wonders if Shiro could fuck him for hours – and Keith keens at the praise, pulling Shiro's hair until Shiro comes down to kiss him, licking hot into Keith's mouth and never stopping the movement of his hips. 

They stop kissing because Keith can't stop making noise, writhing and whimpering and digging his nails into Shiro's back, and Shiro ducks his head to Keith's neck, sucking a mark and Keith moans and tips his head back in surrender, wanting Shiro to mark him up, _claim_ him, not caring if everyone can see that he's been a little _slut_ , spreading his legs for the very first man of his type he could find. 

But fuck, Keith can't bring himself to regret it when he's got everything he wanted – full to bursting with cock, held down and fucked by someone so much bigger and stronger, so rough he's going to feel it for days and never, ever forget his first. 

“Daddy,” he cries, one hand moving to clasp Shiro's head to him, begging for more bites and marks and hickeys, and the pleasure is narrowing, coiling tight in his belly, and Keith _needs_. 

Keith thinks he feels Shiro smile when he murmurs, “You want something?” against his neck, and he whines and flushes hot all over at the thought of asking for it – 

“Harder,” he blurts out, and goes even redder. Shiro slows, and it's so agonising Keith moans in frustration. 

“Harder?” Shiro says roughly, and he gives one deep, hard thrust that drags a scream from Keith's throat. 

“Please,” he gasps without prompting, and Shiro's dark smile is so worth the embarrassment of _begging_. 

It's pure sweet agony to feel Shiro withdraw all the way and then thrust back in _hard_ , and it's slow at first as Shiro repositions himself and then harder, harder, harder and Keith's toes curl and his thighs shake and he can't hold on much longer, he knows he can't. 

And he knows Shiro would give him a hand around his cock but he wants to come like this, spread open and full and hoarse with screaming, and Keith scratches helplessly at Shiro's back and wails, “ _Daddy_ ,” when he comes, dizzy with the unending motion of Shiro's hips, fucking him in drives that lose their rhythm as Shiro gets close, panting hard against Keith's neck until he gasps Keith's name and comes, grip so tight on Keith's hand it hurts, and Keith lets his legs fall and moans again at the shooting aches in his thighs. 

He lays still, chest heaving, unable to catch his breath, and Shiro slumps heavily on top of him, the stretch of his cock much more immediate when Keith is oversensitive and fluttering around him, and even after coming down for a while, he's still panting. 

“Oh God,” he says weakly, and Shiro finally looks up at him, a lazy smile on his face. 

His smile falters a little as he pushes up, pulling out of Keith as gently as he can, but Keith still grips his arms and bites his lip, feeling so, so _empty_. 

“Sorry,” Shiro murmurs, and kisses his cheek. Keith moans at the loss as Shiro climbs off him completely, crossing the room to dispose of the condom, and then he comes back and sits beside Keith, running a hand over Keith's thigh. Keith winces, feeling tacky with sweat, and Shiro moves next to brush Keith's hair from his forehead. 

“You can shower if you want,” he says, and it makes Keith feel almost wistful about the condom, wondering what it would feel like to have Shiro's come slipping out of him, leaking into his boxers and making him dirty all over again. 

But he is sweaty and aching and exhausted, so Keith nods and slips into the bathroom, feeling self-conscious as he closes the door behind him. 

He stares at himself in the mirror for a long time. 

Maybe it _is_ stupid to have a tiny blooming crush on Shiro after knowing him for one evening and one fuck, but there's a foolish part of Keith that wants to wake up in Shiro's bed, wants Shiro to kiss him goodbye when he leaves, wants to give Shiro his number. 

“Keith?” comes Shiro's voice, confused, and Keith jumps, glancing guiltily at the shower. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Keith says, loud enough to be heard through the door, and he hears Shiro's footsteps patter away again. 

He gets in the shower after that, conscious of Shiro's concern, and washes himself absently. He's supposed to feel different, he thinks: you're supposed to feel like a new person, or on top of the world, or some new surge of desire, but Keith doesn't really feel anything except a yawning soreness between his legs and the muted throb of bites on his neck and nipples. 

It's not until he's wrapped in a towel that he realises he forgot his clothes, scattered carelessly across Shiro's floor, and so he grabs the robe hanging on the back of the door instead, a long fluffy dressing gown probably fit for someone three times Shiro's age. Keith wonders if Shiro has slippers to go with it, and suppresses a laugh. 

“You look cute,” Shiro says when Keith comes out, and Keith goes red because he doesn't want to be _cute_ – he's eighteen and wants to be _hot_ , thank you very much – but he supposes there's nothing sexy about a robe that comes past his knees. 

“I'm not cute,” he says plaintively, and Shiro's smile is full of dimples and makes Keith's heart flutter in his chest. 

“Come here,” Shiro says, and Keith goes, if only because he isn't sure what he's supposed to do now. “You smell like me,” Shiro comments when Keith's in his arms – _cuddling_ , Keith thinks, and knows he can never tell Lance this particular part of the story – and Keith smiles and ducks closer to Shiro's neck. 

“Good,” he says.

Shiro’s tracing shapes on Keith’s shoulder, round and round and Keith reckons it would be enough to get him going again if he wasn’t so worn out, but he’s exhausted, aching and empty and there’s nothing he wants more than to sleep.

He isn’t sure if he’s allowed.

“Hey,” Shiro says quietly, some minutes later, “it’s pretty late.”

“Mmm?” He should leave before he’s made to leave; spare himself the humiliation.

“You can – you can, uh.” Shiro swallows, and it’s loud beside Keith’s ear. “You can stay the night. If you want.”

Keith shouldn’t.

“Okay,” is what stumbles out of his mouth, and he hides his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> whether they're strangers or best friends, these boys just cannot keep it casual (aka i can't stop myself giving them a happy ending)
> 
> please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and you can find me on twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith and tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com !


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